


i am more than these bones (i feel love, i feel alone)

by red0aktree



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: (I'm not that cruel), (he eventually gets happiness though), Ace!Newt, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Canonical Child Abuse, Credence Barebone Deserves Better, F/M, Family, First Meetings, Gen, Hitchhiking, Hurt/Comfort, credence/newt can be platonic or romantic, social worker!Tina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-03 18:30:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8725582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red0aktree/pseuds/red0aktree
Summary: "The drives were long, and boring, and worst of all -- frequent. Of course, Newt didn't mind them much; he loved what he did. The first time Newt met Credence was on one of these drives. The boy stuck out his thumb. Newt watched, considered, pitied -- but did not stop."~-~Newt (eventually) picks Credence up while he's hitchhiking. It becomes a habit. As Newt begins to find out about Credence's far darker home life, he vows to help the boy the best he can. Luckily for him he has Jacob and the Goldsteins to help him keep his promise.





	1. December - January

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Flesh and Bone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jAqp9MtRFNo) by Keaton Henson, a song I strongly associate with Credence. 
> 
> As always, thank you to [Elijah](http://peacoatsandrosary.tumblr.com/), for sending me spiraling. 
> 
> Also, I struggled for a while trying to figure out good non-magical careers for our wizards. Hopefully I did their characters justice!

**One.**

Newt was dedicated to his profession. His profession happened to be caring for things that were different. That wasn't what he told people his profession was when they asked, of course. He said, “I’m a geneticist,” and then he watched them stumble over some variation of, “I never would have pictured you as a man of science.”

Newt was used to it. After all, he _was_ remarkably different from what people imagined when they imagined a geneticist. He didn’t carry test tubes or corked vials, didn’t have a white lab coat or a centrifuge. He was clumsy and nervous and he only worked with animals. To Newt, there was no greater genetic anomaly than albinism, which was what Newt had dedicated his life to.

The problem with albinism was that there weren’t a lot of study subjects, as was the nature of the mutation. He had to travel great distances to zoos and sanctuaries across the state to study his group of animals. He usually drove; studying albino animals wasn't a particularly lucrative career and it was rare he could afford a plane ticket. The drives were long, and boring, and worst of all -- frequent. Of course, Newt didn't mind them much; he loved what he did.

The first time Newt met Credence was on one of these drives. Newt drove along contentedly, watching farmhouses steadily pass in and out of his vision. He saw few cars, and even fewer people. Newt was somewhat excited when he first caught sight of the figure ahead of him, trudging along in the shoulder of the highway. Newt's excitement dwindled when he realized the figure's slim frame and soft face betrayed his youth.

The boy stuck out his thumb. Newt watched, considered, pitied -- but did not stop. He had heard the horror stories far too often from Tina.

The road ahead of Newt was long and rural. He watched farmhouses pass with shame and hoped the boy hadn’t also had to pass them.

 

Newt spent that evening at the Goldstein’s house. Newt shoveled mashed potatoes onto his plate and listened contentedly to Queenie’s story about her day at work. She worked at a bank, where she liked the coffee but not her boss. When Tina joined the table she announced Jacob would be a few minutes late. Newt stopped eating, spoon halfway to his mouth. Tina gave him a fond look before saying, "He told us to start without us."

Newt continued to eat his potatoes. Tina sipped her wine, and Queenie resumed her story.

After dinner Tina walked Newt to the door and held out his scarf as he buttoned his coat. He cleared his throat and so she stopped her chatter and watched him. “I saw a boy when I was driving today, he was hitchhiking.”

“A boy?” Tina asked, attention rapt on Newt. “How old?”

“Not a child,” Newt backtracked. Tina had gotten a fierce look in her eyes. “A teenager, but still… young.”

“Oh.”

“It was cold out. I thought I should stop.”

“Don’t stop, Newt. People are dangerous.”

“He didn’t seem dangerous.” Newt thought about the boy’s loose clothes, his hunched shoulders and wet shoes. “He seemed somewhat sad.”

Tina’s face softened a bit, but her voice was still stern. “Still, you have to be careful.”

Newt told her he was, and bid her goodnight. She kissed his cheek.

 

 

**Two.**

Newt only went to the St. Clair zoo every Tuesday. He went there to study a crocodile named Regina. She was fourteen feet long and gorgeous, but awfully fussy that day. She finally let Newt poke and prod and photograph her the way he wanted to though, and she even interacted well with her exhibit-mates so Newt could note that, too.

He was feeling light hearted as he drove home, having forgotten about the boy, but the sight of the farmhouses brought the anxiety back. He watched the side of the highway determinedly, but he didn’t see anyone his entire drive home. Newt didn’t know if that should comfort him or not.

 

 

**Three.**

Newt found that the missing boy was not, in fact, comforting. He had called Tina late Friday night, having stewed over the drive for three days by then. Newt told Tina he hadn’t seen the boy, and wondered if that meant something bad had happened to him. Tina was more than a little taken aback.

“It means he missed the bus one day, and you just happened to see him,” Tina said. “Newt, have you been _worrying_ about this?”

But Newt was trained in handling animals, he could read body language better than anyone he knew. He understood when living things needed help.

And so Newt drove that length of road slowly on the third Tuesday. And when that didn’t work he drove it a second time. But there was no sight of the boy. So, he went sadly home, still watching the side of the road as the sun began to set.

And, as fate would have it, he saw the boy trudging along in the shadows, shoulders still hunched.

Newt was terrified as he pulled over just ahead of the boy. The figure scurried to the car, coat turned up against the wind. Newt didn’t see his face until he was situated in the passenger seat. He did eventually meet Newt’s eye, giving him a nervous greeting, but even then he kept his head lowered, peering at Newt through dark eyelashes. The boy had dark hair, cut terribly short on the sides and longer at the top of his head. Newt had never seen a haircut like that in the city. The boy’s clothes were also distinctly rural, made for function and not fashion.  

“Hello,” Newt said, he sounded cheery but it was laced with anxiety. “My name is Newt Scamander. Can I take you somewhere?”

“Good to m-meet you, Mr Scamander,” the boy talked quietly. Newt was careful not to stare at him. “Just down this r-road is fine, I can walk from t-there.”

“Were you going to walk to wherever I am taking you?” Newt asked, pulling away from the curb, fumbling once with the gear shift.

“Yes, s-sir.”

“Then I’m sure it’s short enough for me to drive you all the way there.” Newt couldn’t help but steal a glance at the boy after he’d said this. He looked uncertain about how to respond, mouth almost forming around a word. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is your name?”

“Credence.”

“Good to meet you, Credence.”

They didn’t talk much the rest of the drive. When Newt got to the next crossroads he asked which way, and Credence told him. They continued like that until they pulled onto a tiny street, in a tiny town. It was tucked away from the road, and was really more a collection of farm houses, speckled with a few sparse shops.

“Here is g-good,” Credence told Newt as he drove by a mostly empty restaurant. There was a house up the road, almost out of sight. Newt wondered if Credence had asked to be dropped off just out of sight of his home. “Thank you, sir, I appreciate it.”

Newt wished Credence didn’t sound so nervous, wished he had somehow managed to comfort him better. He told Credence goodnight and watched as he walked toward the house up the road. Newt began his drive back home; it was night by then. He stopped at a payphone and called Tina to let her know he wouldn’t be at dinner.

 

 

**Four.**

Newt saw Credence the following Tuesday.

He had stayed later at the zoo to ensure that he was on the road with the farmhouses around 5:00p.m., which was when he had picked Credence up last time. He hadn’t told Tina about Credence, because he knew she would be concerned. Newt didn’t think it was weird, though. Credence had been nice, and it was better that someone as kind as Newt was giving him rides rather than a dangerous stranger.

Newt pulled over, and Credence climbed into the car, hesitantly this time. Newt found that odd.

“Hello again,” Newt chirped. Credence met his eyes briefly. They were brown. “Same place as last time?”

“Um,” Credence swallowed. “Yeah, yes. Are you -- do you drive this way a lot?”

“Yes. Well, every Tuesday.”

The boy’s shoulders dropped a little, and he breathed out a soft sigh. Newt gripped the steering wheel tighter as he finally understood. He forced out a tiny chuckle, “I’m not following you, I promise.”

Credence gave a forced, nervous laugh. Newt didn’t consider it a triumph. He cleared his throat. “Do you _walk_ this way often?” Newt turned the question back to Credence, who shrugged.

“Same as you, I guess. Once a week.”

“For what?”

“Family stuff,” Credence said, shoulders hunched again. Newt understood.

“Well, if you’d like I’ll continue to give you rides when I can,” Newt offered. “If I see you, that is.”

Credence was quiet for a long time. Newt could tell he was watching him, but he didn’t dare look and risk meeting Credence’s eye. Newt couldn’t help but figure Credence wouldn’t be too comfortable with that.

“Only if you want,” Newt said at the same time Credence said, “Yeah, that’d be okay.” Newt huffed out a breathy laugh before saying, “Well alright then, _splendid_.”

When Newt looked, Credence was smiling, small but pleasant. Newt pulled onto the same street and stopped the car outside the restaurant from last week. Before Credence got out he turned to look at Newt. Newt’s gaze danced from Credence’s face to other points of interest in the car and the town outside the windows.

“Where are you from?”

“London,” Newt said after the initial surprise of the question.

“I wondered that. You sound like you’re from London. Thank you again for the ride.”

Newt said goodnight once again. He watched Credence climb from the car and set off in the direction of the house down the road. The whole drive home Newt buzzed with nervous energy. He had told Tina he wouldn’t be meeting her for dinner tonight, but he couldn’t contain himself. Newt drove straight to her house.

Queenie answered the door and squealed his name when she saw him. He kissed her cheeks and entered the apartment.

“Tina said you weren’t coming and do you want to know what I said to her? I said, ‘he hasn’t come to dinner in five nights, there’s no way he’d miss a sixth,’ and now look, I was _right_.”

“I couldn’t predict Newt’s dining habits,” Tina called from the kitchen. Newt peeked his head in, noting that the sisters had made plenty of extra food, despite it only being the two of them. “And he _did_ call and say he wouldn’t make it.”

“I did do that, and I apologize, but I just had the most wonderful day and felt like coming over.” Newt grinned. Queenie let out a high pitch, projected sigh.

“That’s so nice, sweetie. Wanting to share your happiness with us. Come on then, hun, tell us about your day.”

Newt began with talking about Regina, the crocodile, because she had been particularly complacent today, and her keeper said she had taken an interest in a fellow exhibit mate. Newt began to explain why this was good news, but both Queenie and Tina looked confused so he stopped and filled his mouth with stew.

“Well that’s good, Newt,” Tina said. “I’m glad Regina isn’t trying to snap at you anymore, because I remember when--”

“I also gave that boy a ride home,” Newt said in a rush, excited to share the news, but fearful that Tina wouldn’t find it so positive.

“Newt,” Tina began, already sounding disappointed. Queenie, on a rare occasion, said nothing.

“His name is Credence. I don’t know how old he is yet, but he goes that way every Tuesday at the same time I do. I told him I would give him rides from now on -- if I saw him, I mean. Just, you know, if it happened that way.”

“How many times have you picked him up, Newt?”

“Two. Today was the second.”

“Okay,” Tina pinched the bridge of her nose. “How old is he?”

“I don’t know. Older than I thought though. Eighteen, maybe. I can ask, next time…”

Tina gave him a withering look, one that clearly said, ‘ _Do what you want, Newt, I’m not involved._ ’ Newt took that as a conversation dismissal, and they went on talking about the news and where poppies grew. Tina poured wine and Queenie put on a Ray Charles record.

 

 

**Five.**

Credence climbed in the car, Newt pulled from the curb. It felt something like a routine. In fact, it was a routine. When Newt had pulled onto the street Credence hadn’t been walking, hadn’t had his thumb out for any other cars, he was simply waiting there for Newt.

“How long does generally take you to walk this route?” Newt asked, turning up the heat when he saw Credence’s fingers shaking, pale with cold. The drive to Credence’s house was almost seven miles from where Newt picked him up. It was only a ten minute drive.

“About two hours. It’s usually not bad, but it’s been awfully cold recently.”

“It sure has, my chameleon,” Newt stopped himself from talking about Pickett, because Credence certainly didn’t know anything about Newt’s pets. He seemed intrigued though, watching Newt carefully. So Newt started again, “My chameleon gets particularly upset around this time of year. Sometimes he won’t even come out of his box to say hello. It’s heated in there, you see. They’re tropical animals.”

“You have an chameleon? What is that like?” Credence was smiling.

“Terribly annoying. He climbs around on me like I’m a toy, and sometimes refuses to leave,” Newt huffed, “He is very gentle though, and a good pet.”

Newt explained that Pickett had been one of the animals Newt was studying, but when the owner had decided he didn’t want to care for reptiles anymore, Newt jumped at the chance to take him home. Pickett had lived with Newt for the last eight years. Credence seemed unreasonably pleased with this story. His mannerisms were still subdued, and he had let Newt ramble on without interruption, but Newt could see how closely he was being watched and knew that Credence simply wasn’t much for outward expression.

“What did you mean by ‘used to study’?” Credence asked once Newt had finished talking.

“I’m a geneticist,” Newt said, waiting for the flustered response. It didn’t come, Credence just seemed more interested.

“So you’re like a _real_ scientist?”

“Yes, but it’s hardly glamorous. I study animals, though, which is wonderful.”

“Shouldn’t you be a zoo… um, what are those people called?”

“Zoologist, and yes, I’m that, too. It was my minor at university. I study albino animals, and the way they interact with their fellow creatures. Certain species reject albino nest mates singularly because they’re different! It’s fascinating.”

“People do that, too,” Credence said quietly. Newt nodded.

“People certainly do. People could learn a thing or two from animals. Most species _do_ accept their albino counterparts, Pickett even had a girlfriend for a few years, and she was green as could be.”

Credence laughed, short and joyous. He looked ashamed afterward, cheeks tinged pink, but Newt was laughing too, so he figured it was okay. Credence didn’t ask anymore questions after that, though, he stayed quiet and waited for Newt to continue. So, Newt did.

“My work is the reason I come out here every week, actually. Have you ever been to the St Clair zoo? It isn’t far from here.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well, it’s quite a small zoo, and I can’t say I’m too fond of it, but there is a wonderful crocodile there named Regina. I’ve been studying her for several years now. She can be positively frightful, but she has a sweet side.”

They were nearing Credence’s house. Credence began to bounce his leg up and down nervously.

“Credence, would you like to go to the St Clair zoo someday? You could accompany me there, it wouldn’t cost a dime if we said we were working.”  
“I don’t know,” Credence said after a bit of hesitation. “My mother might not like that.”

“Right, understandable. Mother’s don’t tend to trust strangers who pick up their teenage sons,” Newt mused, mostly to himself.

“It’s not that. My mother is just…” Credence stopped, Newt knew he would. His voice had started out uncertain from the beginning.

“It’s okay, Credence. No need for excuses. There’s no harm in the word ‘no’.”

Credence smiled, and Newt stopped the car. Credence unbuckled his seat belt with warm hands, no longer shaking from the cold. Newt abruptly remembered something.

“I was meant to ask, how old are you?”

“Seventeen,” Credence frowned, “Meant to ask by who?”

“My friend, Tina. She is quite curious about you.”

“You told your friends about me?”

Newt felt suddenly nervous. He wasn’t certain whether that was a bad thing to do or not. Credence seemed to be considering the same question. He must have decided it wasn’t a big deal, however, because he gave a small smile and told Newt goodnight.

 

That night Newt called Jacob. There was no dinner planned at the Goldstein's tonight, so Newt got out his takeout menus and begged Jacob to come over. It wasn’t difficult, Jacob liked spending time at Newt’s house. He was there within the hour, plopped on Newt’s couch with a Chinese takeout box in his lap.

“Have a good day there, Newt?” Jacob asked as Newt darted about the house, attempting to tell a story but becoming repeatedly distracted. Jacob had seen this aborted, halting nature plenty of times, it was Newt’s ‘excitement-confusion’.

“Yes, a great day, thanks for asking,” Newt said, pouring two glasses of water. He took a few steps into the living room as if to bring Jacob the water, but caught sight of Pickett’s mostly empty water bowl and poured half his glass into it. “I gave that boy a ride again.”

“Oh yeah, _that boy,_ Credence right? Queenie told me all about it.”

“ _Queenie_ told you?” Newt asked, finally making it to the living room, handing Jacob a glass and sipping his own, mostly empty now. “I’ve mostly only told Tina.”

“And Tina told Queenie, don’t act surprised.”

Newt supposed he wasn’t.

“Well, today he asked me about my job, and we talked quite a lot.”

“How old is this kid, Newt?”

“Seventeen. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Because you’re hanging out with a seventeen year old you picked up on the side of the road, and you talk about him like you’re friends, which--”

“We _are_ friends,” Newt interrupted. Jacob gave him a look that said, ‘ _You didn’t let me finish.”_

“ _Which_ ,” Jacob repeated, “I’m sure that you are, but you have to realize what it looks like to the rest of the world.”

“It’s not a sexual thing,” Newt said quickly.

“I know it’s not,” Jacob responded, equally as fast. Jacob certainly did know. He had seen several young men and women pluck up the courage to ask Newt to dinner, and each time it was the same nervous response: “I don’t date.” And Newt didn’t, though people had certainly tried. Jacob had never asked, figured it didn’t ma  
tter, but he hoped Newt wasn’t lonely.

“He just needs a friend, I think. And he’s nice to talk to. Besides, it isn’t a long drive.”

“You sure have a lot of excuses, Newt.”

Newt huffed and picked at his food. Jacob felt a bit guilty. People can’t control who they are drawn to, platonic or otherwise, and Newt _did_ have a pretty good judgement of people. It was Tina’s job to worry and point out all the bad parts about this situation, not Jacob’s.

“So, seventeen, huh? Is he in school?”

Newt perked up immediately. “I’m not sure, but he talks like he is. Though I imagine it would have to be homeschooling, since he lives in the middle of nowhere.”

They continued this way, but Newt had soon exhausted all the tiny details he knew about Credence, and was disappointed to find that he really knew very little. He hoped they would get a chance to talk next week.

Jacob listened, and nodded at all the right places. Once Newt had finished talking about his new friend, they spoke about all manner of things until Jacob began to yawn and decided to find his way home for the night. Newt went to bed happy.

 

 

**Six.**

Newt was held late at the zoo on the seventh Tuesday, and was feeling uncomfortably frustrated. There was confusion about keys, and Regina’s zoo keeper had taken an extra half hour for lunch which set everything back. Newt was on the road forty-five minutes behind schedule and was caught between hoping Credence was still waiting for him, and hoping he wasn’t; it had started to drizzle and Newt couldn’t stand the idea of Credence out in the rain.

But Credence was there, a little farther down the road than where they usually met. His jacket was wrapped tightly around him the way it had been on that first Tuesday, and he had his thumb out toward the road. Newt felt shame and betrayal, but pushed those aside.

Newt pulled over, Credence climbed in.

“I am so sorry, Credence, I got held up at the zoo and tried to get here as fast as I could. It’s freezing outside, are you cold? I turned up the heat, put your hands on the vent and they will warm up faster.”

Newt rambled, Credence’s shoulders were still hunched and he hadn’t looked Newt in the eye.

“I’m terribly sorry. I came as quickly as I could.”

“Don’t be s-sorry. You don’t need to give me rides, you shouldn’t worry ab-about it.”

“I like giving you rides,” Newt said softly. Credence raised his shoulders even higher, arms wrapped around his chest, hands beneath his arms. “Would you like to come with me to the town just passed yours? There is a little cafe we could go to, do you like cocoa?”

“I can’t, I’m already late.” There wasn’t blame in Credence’s voice, just misery. Newt stole a few quick glances Credence’s way, trying to figure out what was going on while keeping an eye on the road as well.

“Are you alright Credence? Has something happened?”

Credence shrugged. “I got into a fight with my mom. I d-deserved it.”

Newt was quiet for a long while, struggling with what to say next. He had plenty of experience with frightened, hurt animals, but beyond Jacob and the Goldsteins, Newt had never been close to people.

“Do you really believe you deserved it?” Newt settled on finally.

Credence didn’t answer the question, just shifted in his seat and stared out the window. Newt knew that that meant ‘no’. If Credence had believed it he would have said so.

“Are you eighteen soon, Credence?” Newt said when it was clear Credence wouldn’t answer.

“In May.”

It was January. That wasn’t far, only three months away. Newt hoped, for Credence’s sake, it was a short three months. Newt glanced to Credence, ready to ask if he planned to leave, but stopped. He had caught Credence staring, face turned toward Newt. Newt gasped, shocked by the sight of the faded bruise around his eye. It was still an angry red, obviously less than a week old. Credence ducked his head shamefully; his cheeks flushed red.

“Did she--”

“She didn’t h-h-hit m-me,” Credence explained quickly, turning even farther away from Newt. “She only p-pushed me, I t-t-tripped. It was me.”

Newt couldn’t see the road, was completely unaware of driving at all. The universe around Newt’s car was a distant memory, he focused solely on the boy beside him. The moment passed quickly, however. Newt was trained in logical reasoning, knew how to keep a level head. He returned attention to the road, and found that he had let up on the gas. He sped up.

Credence shuffled nervously at the increased acceleration. Newt was attuned to the nervous glances at the door and road outside.

“If we’re late that would only make things worse.”

Credence relaxed a bit, but still guarded himself from Newt. He hadn’t given Newt a single opportunity for a better look at his eye.

“Thank y-you.”

“Does she _push_ _you_ often, Credence?”

“No, only when I d-deserve it.”

“But you didn’t deserve it this time, did you?” Newt was being interrogative, and a bit insensitive he supposed, but he needed to know. _Tina_ needed to know.

“Stop asking me that,” Credence said, fist clenched and back suddenly straight. “I don’t k-know.”

“The answer is no,” Newt said, quiet compared to Credence’s raised voice. “You didn’t deserve it, Credence.”

“Stop,” Credence pleaded, dropping his head into his hands.

They had reached the store. Newt stopped the car, absolutely horrified that he had to return Credence to that awful place up the road. He had sensed it on Credence the moment he saw him, Newt’s fears were only new being confirmed. Tina was a social worker, she dealt with people exactly like Credence. She had seen all the bad that could come out of abusive homes. Newt knew these stories, too.

“Credence, can I please give you something before you go? Just so I know you will be safe?”

Credence nodded, eyes still downcast. Newt shuffled in his pockets, and then the middle console, to surface a pen and a pencil. He wrote his phone number, careful that the numbers were legible, and held it out to Credence. Credence took it, glancing only briefly to Newt’s eyes. Newt noted the bruise when he could. It was certainly faded, but likely still sore.

“Use that anytime. Call me for anything. If you need somebody to come get you I can be here in two hours tops.”

“Thank you, Mr S-Scamander,” Credence said, earnestly. Newt nodded.

“It’s Newt. Goodnight, Credence.”

 

“His mother hit him,” Newt said byway of a greeting when Tina answered the phone. He was huddled in a tiny phone booth, using the last few quarters in his glove box to dial her as soon as he was off the road with the farmhouses.

“The boy’s? Credence?” Tina didn’t greet Newt, either.

“Yes. He said she pushed him and he fell, but his eye was black like she slapped him.”

“Shit. Where are you, Newt? Are you calling from a payphone? I’ll make tea, just get here quick so we can talk.”

“Right, okay.”

 

It had begun to snow by the time Newt reached Tina’s house. The timing was right, apparently, because Queenie had just left to go to Jacob’s for the evening. They sat at the kitchen table, sipping hot drinks, and Newt described the entire ride to Tina. She nodded sympathetically, and asked many questions about the town Credence lived in and who his mother was, but Newt couldn’t answer most of those.

Newt could mostly just tell her that Credence had looked sad, and scared, and that Newt hadn’t liked it at all. Tina looked sympathetic, and she reached her hand across the table to hold his.

“Will it help you feel better if I tell you that you were right? That it’s probably a good thing that you picked him up when you did?”

“That _does_ make me feel better, I suppose. But, not a lot.”

Tina laughed, a sad little laugh, and offered to make more tea. Newt stood from the table and made his way to the couch, where he curled under a throw blanket and stared emptily at the television. Newt was almost certain it had broken a while ago, and neither Tina nor Queenie had made any attempt to get it fixed.

Tina returned from the kitchen and snuggled onto the couch beside Newt, handing him his mug. She stared at the broken television for a while too before saying, “The TV’s broken,” to which Newt laughed.

They settled around the coffee table, a game of Rummy laid out in front of them. Tina stole some of Queenie’s brandy, and Newt had so much he decided to sleep on the couch that night. They played three games of Rummy. Newt only won once.


	2. January - February

**Seven.**

There was no black eye when Newt picked Credence up the following week. Credence seemed proud of the fact, as when he climbed in the car he was in good spirits and he didn’t hide his face from Newt. Newt wanted to ask how things had been, wanted to say that they could just keep driving passed Credence’s turn off, but instead he said, “You look cheerful today!”

“I guess I kind of am,” Credence said, “Things have been okay recently.” 

“That’s good,” Newt smiled, “has anything interesting happened?” 

Credence shrugged. “No, what about with you?” 

Newt recognized deflection when he saw it. Newt also knew sometimes the best way to deal with it was just to answer. It was a defense mechanism, after all. So, Newt talked about his animals, and about how his albino hedgehog a city away was going to have pups, which was good for studying heritage. Credence listened carefully, but chewed on his bottom lip as if he was itching to talk. Newt stopped and let silence fall between them. 

“Can I ask you something?” Credence said, almost as if on cue. 

“Yes.”

“Why have you been so nice to me?”

“Because you’re nice to me back,” Newt said simply, but his heart hurt. “And because I like being nice to people.”

“Do you pity me?”

“No, I think you are a young man in a bad situation, who doesn’t know where to go. And for that reason I think you do deserve some sympathy, yes.” Newt said this all very quickly, hands tight on the steering wheel. 

“I’m not in a bad situation,” Credence said softly. “My mother didn’t hit me, I told you, I fell. She pushes us around sometimes, but that’s how she was raised--”

“Abuse is more than hitting, Credence. Making you walk seven miles in January is abuse, too.” 

“But she-- You--”

“Does she know I give you rides?” 

“No.”

“Would you feel comfortable telling her?”

A pause. “No.”

“So, as far as she knows you walk all those miles every week, God knows what you do on the days I don’t see you.”

Credence was quiet. His good mood had shattered, and it was Newt’s fault. Newt sighed and said softly, “It’s okay if you’re scared. Situations like these are scary. But I can help you, if you want me to. My friend is a social worker, she could help, too. Or if you want me to just turn a blind eye and keep giving you rides without question, I’ll do that too. But those are your only options.”

Credence sniffed, and Newt knew he wasn’t crying, but he seemed close. “Okay,” Credence’s voice shook a bit, “Okay, yeah, I do want you to keep giving me rides.”

“And the questions?”

“The… The questions can stay, too. But I don’t know about the h-help just yet.” 

“Okay,” Newt said, nodding, “That’s good enough for me.”

“And you said it’s okay to call you though, if I need to?”

“Even if you don’t need to,” Newt snuck a smile Credence’s way, “Even if you just kind of want to.”

Credence ducked his head and suppressed a tiny laugh. He wore cut off cotton gloves. Newt liked them, even though they were threadbare and stringy. Credence tugged at them and Newt returned his eyes to the road. 

“Are you home schooled, Credence?”

“Yes, by my mother. My two sisters are, also. There aren’t many kids in our town.”

“I would assume not,” Newt chuckled. “Do you like being home schooled?”

“Kind of,” Credence shrugged. “But I don’t know a lot about a lot of things. I can write pretty well, read too, but there’s a lot of subjects I’ve just never heard of before.”

“Like what?” 

“Like what you do. I didn’t even know there were people out there who were geneticists  _ and _ zoologists. I barely even knew what both of those things were.” 

“Well, you can ask me any questions you have. I can certainly teach you what it’s like to be, well, what I am. Genetic zoologist is quite the mouthful, isn’t it?” 

Credence laughed again. Newt could hardly believe this was the same boy he had picked up on the first Tuesday. “Okay,” Credence said. “Okay, I have a question.”

Newt hummed for him to continue. 

“You said before that your friend was a social worker. What does that mean?”

Newt glanced at Credence twice in quick succession, startled. He wanted to question how the boy had never, in seventeen years, learned what a social worker was, but he knew that asking might make Credence feel stupid and that was the last thing Newt wanted to do.

“A social worker is a person who helps people who need it. People who are homeless, or orphaned, or… Just in bad places. They get them out of those situations and into better ones.” 

Credence blinked at Newt several times, and Newt couldn’t help but look longer than he should have at Credence’s thinking face. His nose was scrunched ever so slightly, and Newt found it endearing.

“There are people like that? Where?”

“Everywhere. Well, cities mostly. If there aren’t any in your town, you might not have learned…”

“We learned about plenty of people who don’t live in our town.” Credence’s voice was cold, and Newt suddenly felt uncomfortable. “Are they like police?”

“No, not exactly. They work with the police sometimes, but they’re separate.”

“Okay,” Credence said. Newt watched the road. Soon they were on Credence’s street, where they shared an earnest goodbye. It was harder now for Newt to watch Credence trudge up the street than it ever had been. He wondered if Credence felt something similar. 

 

 

**Eight.**

Newt was, once again, nervous for his drive home. Credence had called him two nights ago, around 8:00 pm. After an awkward and stumbling greeting, Credence cleared his throat and said, “I’ve been, um, well, thinking about what we talked about, about school and stuff, and I was just thinking-- Do you think there could be things she doesn’t teach me on purpose?” 

“I think that that is a possibility, yes. But I also don’t think you should jump to conclusions just based on one thing.”

“But it’s not the f-first time this has h-happened.” Credence was starting to sound upset. Newt’s clutched his phone tighter. “She’s hidden things from me b-before.”

“Well, okay. Do you want to talk to Tina, Credence? She could go over these things with you, help you understand things you might be missing.”

“I don’t know,” Credence hesitated. “Yes, yeah, okay, I want to talk to her.”

“Do you want me to give you her number?” 

“No. No, can I meet her with you?” 

“With me? Yes, that can certainly be arranged. I can call her tonight.”

They said goodnight, and Credence assured Newt that he would be okay. 

They didn’t speak again until Credence climbed into Newt’s car and Newt said, “I spoke to Tina. Would you like to come to dinner with us one of these nights? Would there be any way your mother would allow it?”

“I could lie. I’ve done it before. There’s a preacher in town that my mother makes me go see. He holds me late some nights if I’ve-- well, if he needs to. I could say it was one of those nights.” Newt didn’t like this idea. He feared that it could lead to further abuse of the boy. He made a soft sound of displeasure. “We could do it next week, I could just come with you instead of you dropping me off.”

“I like the next week part of this plan, but I’m not sure about the lying.”

“Newt,” Credence said, and Newt was transfixed, he was certain Credence had never said his first name before, had never addressed him so directly, “There’s no other way she’d let me go.  _ Please _ .”

Newt had no choice. “Okay, okay, yes. I will tell Tina to plan for next Tuesday. Call me Monday night, please, so I know if the plan is still appropriate.” 

Credence nodded, eager and excited. Newt feld downtrodden. Credence was so eager, so unaware. Whatever end he was searching for in this wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be. Talking to Tina wouldn’t change anything. She was good at her job and could certainly set him on the right track to getting away from his mother if that’s what he wanted, but she couldn’t simply  _ fix  _ it for him. There was a long road ahead of them. 

Newt didn’t want to ruin Credence’s mood, though. That would be downright cruel. 

“Well, Credence, since it seems you will be meeting my friends soon, perhaps I should tell you a bit about them?”

“Yes,” Credence said quickly. “Yes, do that.”

“Shall we start with Tina? She is a bit stern, which some people find off putting at first, but she is really very sweet. She will probably ask you a lot of questions, but don’t get intimidated. Once, when I first brought Jacob around, she interrogated him for half the dinner just because Queenie winked at him. It was the most uncomfortable I’ve ever seen Jacob, but I guess it all turned out okay in the end. Jacob told me he’s looking into engagement rings.” Newt paused to collect his thoughts, then frowned. “I got sidetracked, I don’t think I’ve told you anything at all.”

“No,” Credence said, shaking his head. Credence was leaned forward, hands hovering over the vents to warm his long fingers. “You’ve told me plenty. Keep going. Only, who is Queenie?”

“Queenie is Tina’s sister. She is positively wonderful. It’s impossible to feel sad around Queenie, she’s that type of person. She is terribly excited to meet you. She wanted me to ask if you prefer soup or stew, and if you like mushrooms.”

Newt glanced to the passenger seat. Credence’s head had lowered ever so slightly, his fingers curled into fists near the dashboard. 

“No pref-ference,” Credence said. “And please tell her t-thank you.”

“Of course. She might ask you a great deal of questions, too. But not like Tina. Queenie will probably ask about your favorite color and whatnot. And she’ll definitely ask what your favorite meal is, and try to perfect it by the next time she sees you. She loves to cook, and is beyond generous about it--”

“Your friends  _ w-want  _ to meet m-me?” Credence asked suddenly, interrupting Newt. Newt jerked his gaze toward Credence, surprised to find that his apparent anxiety was mixed with something else: hope. Credence twisted his fingers in his lap, but leaned forward eagerly. 

“Of course they do! Why ever would you ask that?”

“They sound so nice, I just--”

“Oh, hush,” Newt interrupted. “You belong with us as much as anyone else.”

Credence chewed his bottom lip, ducking his head to hide a smile. Newt questioned for a moment whether he was cursed, or simply lucky. The road with the farmhouses seemed shorter every week, today was no exception. Newt turned off the main road, they had less than a minute. 

“They’re going to love you, Credence. The last thing I want is for you to be nervous.” 

“Okay,” Credence said, and Newt knew by the hesitation in his voice he was going to be nothing but nervous until next Tuesday. 

“Now, do you want to hear about them or not?” 

Credence gave an enthusiastic yes, and Newt filled the rest of the drive with anecdotes about the people he loved most. Credence was happy to listen, but Newt was even happier to tell him. Newt considered himself very lucky to have friends like the ones he did, sometimes he considered that there was no one luckier in the world. 

 

 

**Nine.**

When Credence climbed into Newt’s car on the ninth Tuesday there was music playing, which was different than how it had been on all the past drives. Newt had finally remembered to put his small collection of audio tapes back into the glove compartment. He had chosen  _ The Beatles _ , letting John Lennon's voice fill the car. 

Credence shifted nervously in his seat as they drove, and didn’t start conversation. Newt let their silent stretch on for several minutes, but eventually turned down the radio a touch and said, “Are you certain we have until eight?” 

“Yes, definitely. I’ve come home passed ten before. She doesn’t even act surprised.”

Newt wanted to express displeasure at that fact; wanted to ask if Credence saw anything wrong with this face himself. Newt wasn’t entirely sure he would. “Well, we won’t have you out passed ten, that’s for certain. Eight will be just fine.”

Their was a tense silence that filled the car when they passed Credence’s turn off. Credence kept his eyes on it until it was far out of view. Newt watched his anxious gestures, taking pity finally and saying, “It’s okay if you’re worried.”

“I’ve never been away from home like this without my mother,” Credence said quietly. “It’s… different.”

“I’ll take you back anytime you want. No questions asked.” 

“Okay. Thank you, Newt.” 

There was a terrible familiarity when someone uses your first name. Everyone knows it is a sign of friendship, shows that you’re more than just acquaintances, but it's something more than that, too. There are certain people who say your name differently than anyone else, certain people say your name and you hear all the emotions they associate with you, as well. 

When Credence said Newt’s name, Newt heard thankfulness and admiration, knew that Credence associate him with gentility and trust. To feel those emotions from someone so anxious and timid an amazing honor indeed. 

“You’re welcome, Credence,” Newt smiled, “Now, I was thinking, since everyone is going to have questions for you tonight at dinner, maybe you wanted a chance to ask some questions of your own.”

“You want me to ask questions? About what?” 

“Anything. Myself, or my friends, or what the Secretary of Defense’s duties are in government.” 

Credence laughed. “What  _ are _ the Secretary of Defense’s duties?”

“Hmm,” Newt hummed, holding back a laugh. “I’m not entirely sure I know. Wasn’t a particularly good question to suggest, was it? Damn American government, I don’t understand any of it.”

Credence was really laughing now, long fingers pressed over his mouth and nose scrunched. “Okay,” Credence said once he had removed his hand from his mouth and found some composure. “Okay, I don’t care abotu the Secretary of Defense. I have a real question, though.”

Newt nodded, encouragingly. 

“Why did you leave London?”

“I came to America because I was studying an albino leopard in the Central Park Zoo. I only meant to stay a few months, but then I met Jacob and the Goldsteins and when I returned home to London I found that I missed them terribly. So I packed up and settled down out here. Not in the city though, I couldn’t handle big city life one bit.” 

“I don’t think I could either,” Credence said, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket. He wore a worn, ratty suit jacket, and though he didn’t look particularly well cleaned up, Newt knew he had tried. His friends would know, too. And besides, they wouldn’t care what he wore, anyway. “But I’d like to go there someday. I’ve never been.” 

“We can go sometime,” Newt offered. “There are some good restaurants, and it’s worth seeing just to see, but things move too quickly there.”

“I’ve heard that there are a lot of people.” 

“There are tons of people. Great hoards of them, and crossing the streets is a literal nightmare.”

“I get uncomfortable around a lot of people,” Credence admitted, eyes lowered. He was still tugging at his sleeve. 

“I do too,” Newt spoke kindly, hopefully making him feel at ease. “People are exhausting. I promise I won’t drag you to the city if you don’t want to go.”

“I might want to,” Credence said, shrugging, “Maybe eventually.”

Newt forcibly ignored the implications of the word  _ eventually _ . “Would you like to choose the music, Credence?” Newt asked. After that he was somewhat grateful for the noise that filled the car, took the place of the hesitant voices: the shuffle of Credence flipping through tapes, the occasional question, and finally the soft sounds of Billie Holiday’s crooning voice. Credence said he had never heard her before, but thought she was pretty. 

They drove. Newt told a few stories when the situation called for it, such as, “See that gas station over there? One time I was driving home and saw a moose there! Yes, a living moose!” and, “Tina and I drove up to that mountain peak over there, you can barely see it from here. It’s right near the Vermont border. We stayed in the most charming cabin. It was lovely.”

Soon the sides of the road was marked by buildings, and not pine trees. Credence began to tug at his sleeve again, flicking his gaze from Newt to the road, and then back to Newt. Newt’s fingers had begun their own nervous motions, flexing against the steering wheel, running through his hair far too often. 

They didn’t acknowledge the anxiety in the air. They both stayed silent, offering no comfort, listening to Louis Armstrong’s melodic plight. The Billie Holiday tape had long since ended. 

Tina’s house drew closer into view, and Newt nervously said, “Looks like we’re about here.”

“I’m scared.” Newt wasn’t expecting such an admission from the younger boy. Newt just opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

“No,” Newt said quickly, mostly to buy himself time to figure out how to calm the boy. “No, it’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared.”

The engine was no longer running. The pair sat in the quickly cooling car, dark without the dome light on. Newt could make out the shape of Credence’s face, the slope of his nose and the jut of his jaw, but the rest of his face was shrouded in darkness. He could feel Credence’s eyes on him, though. 

“I won’t force you to go if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.” 

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’d better get inside before we freeze to death.” 

The moment, if that’s what it was, was broken. Newt climbed from the car, Credence did the same. They only stood shivering on the porch a moment before the door swung open wide, revealing Queenie who looked positively delighted. 

“Newt,” She drawled, looking before the two of them quickly, “You didn’t tell me he was this  _ handsome _ .”

“Hello Queenie,” Newt said. “It’s quite cold out here, may we come in?”

Queenie shuffled them inside, attempting to take Newt’s coat and yelling for Tina all at once. In the bustle of everything, Newt almost didn’t notice the needy motion at his side. He glanced to his left, to look at Credence, surprised by how expressionless he seemed. His face was passive, but not unkind; it was his hand that betrayed his emotion. His palm was pressed lightly against Newt’s side, just below his ribcage, long fingers splayed flat against Newt’s dark button up. 

Newt and Credence made eye contact, briefly, just as Tina stepped into the room and said, “You must be Credence.” Newt took a step back ward, breaking the contact Credence had established and introducing something else. Newt placed his own palm against Credence’s back, and guided him forward just a step. 

“Credence, Tina. Tina, Credence.” 

A few nervous, halting words were exchanged before Tina whisked the two of them to the table and encouraged them to sit. Jacob was already there, chatting with Queenie who stood in the doorway. They made their way to the table, Credence eyeing the lavishly decorated dining room with a hesitant eye. Newt kept his hand on the boy’s back the entire time, guiding him to his chair and removing his hand as they sat down. 

The dining room was decorated with tiny pink and white hearts, hanging from the ceiling with red ribbon. There was a plate of red cookies on the table, and a decorative centerpiece announcing that read, “Happy Valentine’s Day!” The holiday was in two days, and Queenie positively loved decorating whenever she could. Tina acted like she hated it, but Newt knew she didn’t. 

Queenie returned to the kitchen and Tina poured wine. The reached for a fifth wine glass, then stopped. She blinked twice before turning to Credence. “Would you like something to drink, Credence? I don’t suppose you drink wine, but maybe you’d like some coffee? Or hot chocolate?” 

Credence glanced at Newt before answering. “Hot chocolate would be n-nice, t-thank you.”

She disappeared from the room. Newt got the feeling that the Goldsteins were just as nervous about meeting Credence as he was of them. Jacob, however, seemed unaffected. He leaned forward, sipping the wine Tina had handed him, and asked, “So, Credence, has Newt showed you his animals yet?”

“Oh,” Credence seemed startled to have been addressed. “Um, no, he told me about s-some of them, t-though.” 

“Let me guess, Pickett?” 

“Yes.” Credence shuffled to the edge of his seat, closer to Newt. “How did you know?”

“That’s who Newt told me about first, too. I won’t lie to you, I think Newt picks favorites.”

“How many does he have?”

“Twelve,” Jacob answered, then paused. “I think it’s twelve. Am I missing anybody?”

“No, twelve is right,” Newt confirmed, sipping his wine. 

“All at your house?” Credence turned to look at Newt. “Twelve animals?”

“Hardly,” Newt laughed. “I only have four at the house. The other eight are in sanctuaries and zoos around the area.”

“But you consider them  _ yours _ ?” Credence wasn’t stuttering anymore. He didn’t even look nervous. 

“Well of course,” Newt laughed. “I love them, which is more than many of their keepers can say.”

“Oh honey,” Queenie’s voice sounded from the doorway. “If that’s how posession worked then you’d all be mine.” She kissed Jacob’s temple, then took her seat at the table. “I love you all so much you’d be mine forever.” 

She was mostly talking to Jacob, but Newt knew there was a portion of that directed at him, too. There was probably even a portion directed at Credence, though it would take years for Credence to accept that. Newt smiled at Credence, who was still sitting far too close and looking straight at him. Credence blushed when Newt turned his way, and scooted back into the middle of his seat. By then Queenie and Jacob had torn their eyes from each other and Queenie said, “I hope you like red velvet, cutie.”

Credence glanced to Newt, and then back to Queenie. He was clearly confused about who she was speaking to. 

“Yeah,  _ you _ ,” Queenie laughed, eyes scrunched as she smiled. “I already know that these boys do. I told Newt to ask what your favorite cookie was but he said he forgot.”

Newt ducked his head at Queenie’s disapproving look, but they were both suppressing smiles, faking seriousness in accordance with their game. 

“I l-like red velvet,” Credence said. “Thank you, m’miss.” 

“Anytime, cutie! You look positively  _ starved _ , you can have the whole batch if you want.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Jacob added. 

“Jacob owns a bakery, did Newt tell you? He let’s me help there every once in a while, but the genius is all him.”

“She owns half of it,” Jacob huffed. “It’s practically her’s.”

“We make all kinds of sweets. We can send Newt with any kind you like.” 

Newt was becoming increasingly worried about Credence during this conversation. Though, it was hardly a conversation, it was more of a lecture with the occasional question, which Credence wasn’t answering. His face was turned away from Newt as Queenie continued to talk at him, and Newt couldn’t read much from the stiff slope of his shoulders; Credence’s shoulders were always stiff. Just to be safe Newt placed a hand on the middle of Credence’s spine, out of view from the others but still just below his shoulder blades. Credence leaned into the touch. 

Newt attempted to refocus on what Queenie and Jacob were saying to Credence, but was distracted by Tina stepping through the doorway. She carried a white mug with her and set it in front of Credence, who whipped his gaze to look at her. Tina only gave him a small smile, but she had kind eyes that told him all he needed to know. Newt was suddenly reminded that this is what she did for a living, this is who she was everyday. Newt realized, perhaps for the first time, that Tina’s job was far more difficult than his. 

“Dinner is ready. Queenie, will you help me set the table?” 

Jacob stood instead of Queenie. They set the table and piled their plates high with roast beef and all manner of sides. The girls had clearly taken this as an occasion to splurge, not that anyone would complain. Conversation bounced around the table messily; Jacob talked about his day, Queenie asked Credence questions, Newt deflected them when Credence seemed distraught. It wasn’t a graceful conversation, but it was comfortable, the sort of meaningless, nightly chatter that the group was so used to. 

As plates became empty, and everybody set their forks down against the dinnerware, an odd quiet fell over the table. Newt remembered, to his displeasure, the real reason they were there. Queenie and Jacob seemed to remember this also, as they helped clear the table and then disappeared into the living room, shutting the partition to give the other three privacy. Credence clutched nervously at his mug, Newt returned his hand to Credence’s back, and they both faced Tina. 

“Credence, was there anything that you came here to talk to me about?” Tina asked, her arms crossed loosely on the table. Credence nodded, but said nothing. “Okay. Do you feel comfortable talking about them with Newt in the room?” Another nod. “Alright. Do you like it best when I ask the questions?” 

“Y-yes,” Credence said, finally speaking. He leaned harder against Newt’s hand. 

“Okay. You live with your mother, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And where is your father?” 

“I don’t know. And Ma isn’t my real mother, she adopted me when I was a baby.”

Tina paused at this, considering this new information for a second. “Have you ever met either of your biological parents?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been given the option?”

“No, ma’am, but I’m not eighteen yet.”

“Do you have siblings?”

“Two sisters. I’m in the middle.”

“Okay. Credence, I’m going to need you to tell me some things now, about how your mother treats you and your sisters. Can you do that?”

Credence hesitated. Tina softened her gaze, which had become a bit hard and interrogative. 

“I know it might be difficult, but I can’t help unless you tell me.”

“Well,” Credence began, then paused to think. “I just have a couple of questions first.”

“Ask them,” Tina encouraged. 

“Okay. Well, first, what kinds of things should I be telling you about?”

“Anything she does that makes you feel uncomfortable, Credence. Even if it seems silly. At the end of the conversation, I can assess it and we can talk about what exactly abuse is. Is that clear?” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s Tina. And what is your other question?”

“If I tell you something bad, and…” Credence swallowed. Newt applied just the smallest amount of pressure to his thumb before trailing it along Credence’s spine in a repetitive motion. “And Ma could get in trouble for it, do you have to go to the police?”

Tina seemed conflicted about her response. She finally sighed and said, “Legally, yes. But I won’t if you don’t want me to, as a favor to a friend. Just remember that there are people who can help you get out of these situations. Newt and I would keep you safe.”

Credence swallowed again and ducked his head. He looked at Tina through his eyelashes, glanced at Newt once, and then said, “Sometimes when I make her real mad she hits me.”

Tina didn’t miss a beat. “Where?” she asked. Newt was bewildered. His heart had grown so heavy at the statement, his throat constricted so completely, he wasn’t sure how Tina could even speak. He reminded himself that this was her job, and he returned his focus to the boy beside him. 

“Here,” Credence said, removing his hands from where they were wrapped tightly around his empty mug. He placed them palm up on the table, revealing a number of tangled scars, old and gnarled. Newt gasped, he had seen Credence’s hands plenty of times, but never like this. He berated himself for not seeing the scars before. 

“It isn’t a lot,” Credence said, folding his hands closed and hiding them beneath the table. “She doesn’t do it a lot. And I almost always deserve it. Only, nobody else in my town has scars like these, and my sisters sure don’t, and I didn’t know if--” 

“Credence,” Tina interrupted, voice smooth and calm, but sadder than Newt had ever heard it. “Does she use a whip?”

“A b-belt.” 

Tina sighed, reaching her hands across the table and laying them palm up, gesturing to Credence. Credence slowly reached across the table, placing his hands in her’s. She held them tightly, intimately, running her thumbs over the angry white lines. 

“Credence, if your mother gave you these scars then she deserves to go to prison for a long time. She has no right to call herself your mother.” 

Newt heard Credence’s breath catch in his throat. He nodded, but was trembling now. Tina held his hands tighter, Newt moved his palm up and down Credence’s spine, but neither could stop the rampant emotions the boy was feeling. Eventually Credence removed his hands from Tina’s and folded his arms around his stomach, leaning forward against the table. He raised his gaze to look at Tina. 

“What does that mean?” Credence asked. “What do I do?”

“There’s a lot you can do. If you’re eighteen soon there’s no reason you can’t just leave her after your birthday. She cannot legally make you stay.”  
“I don’t have anywhere to go though,” Credence looked at Newt, “I told you, I’ve barely even been out of my town. I don’t-- I only--”

“There are plenty of resources for people in your situation, Credence. There are people who can help you find a job, find you somewhere to live.”

Newt knew that Tina was right, that there  _ were _ resources for people like Credence. But watching him, his dark eyes searching Newt’s face for an answer, Newt knew that Credence would choose his mother over the hopelessness of being lost in a city he’d never been. 

“I have a spare bedroom,” Newt said quietly. 

Credence tore his gaze away from Newt at the suggestion. He stared down at the dark wood table for several long moments. Tina stood and poured herself another glass of wine. She remained standing, bottle in one hand, glass in the other. 

“Credence,” she began, waiting for him to look at her before she continued. “Can I say something as a friend, and not as a social worker?”

Credence nodded. 

“I’ve seen lot’s of cases like this, and the abuse doesn’t stop. It’s only going to get worse, Credence. I think that it in your best interest to go and stay with Newt. He is a good person, and he can help you.”

Credence nodded again. Tina gave him a small smile, as if encouraging him to continue. But Credence remained silent. Newt and Tina made eye contact, Newt with raised eyebrows as if to ask a question. 

“I think I’m going to need some time to think this over,” Credence said finally. Newt let out the breath he seemed to have been holding; Tina had a similar reaction. 

“I think that’s a good idea. And if you come to the conclusion that you need our help, you can call either of us anytime.” Tina had such a kind voice when she wanted to, calming and warm, almost like a mother. “Do you have any other questions for me?”

“Not now,” Credence said after a moment of thought, “But I will soon, I think.”

“Good. Now who wants to play a round of King’s Corner?”

Soon Queenie and Jacob had rejoined the trio at the table, and they left it to Jacob to explain King’s Corner to Credence since he had been the one to introduce the group to the game in the first place. They played several halting rounds, Credence whispering questions to Newt when he couldn’t remember what the value of the face cards were, or if a move was valid or not. Queenie lost four rounds in a row, laughing louder each time. Newt was quite good at the game, and Credence picked it up fast. A plate of red velvet cookies sat on the table, slowly dwindling as the game went on. They were from Jacob and Queenie’s bakery. Credence refused to grab one for himself, but was more than happy when Newt grabbed two from the plate and quietly slid one to the younger boy. 

The night drew to a close eventually, however. The sun had set, and they would have to leave soon to get Credence home on time. Jacob had won King’s Corner and was now leaning back in his chair, finishing off the last of the cookies he had baked. Queenie had her head leaned on Jacob’s shoulder, but leapt to her feet when Newt and Credence stood to leave. 

“Oh, Credence, honey, it was so good to meet you,” Queenie said as she walked around the table, coming to stand directly in front of the boy. “Please come back sometime soon.”

Credence glanced nervously to Newt. Newt had begun to notice that this happened a lot. Queenie stepped forward and swept Credence into a full bodied hug, arms wrapped firmly around his back. Newt imagined that Credence would be hesitant to reciprocate the hug, but Newt imagined wrong. Credence melted against her easily, hugging her back tightly. 

“I’ll be back soon,” Credence said. “I hope.”

“Good,” Queenie said, pulling away and patting his shoulders. “And I mean it about sending sweets. If you don’t tell me what your favorite is I’ll just send every type we have.”

“I liked the red velvet ones, I’d never had those before.”

“Red velvet it is! I’ll send some others, too, just for fun.” Queenie placed a quick kiss on Credence’s cheek, squeezed his shoulders one more time, and then stepped back. 

“See you later, kid,” Jacob called as the pair exited the room, meeting Tina by the door. 

“You’ll call if you have questions?” Tina asked, handing them their coats. “Newt can give you my number.”

“Yes, I’ll call. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Tina handed Credence his coat, watching him carefully as he dressed. She focused on his hands as he threaded the buttons, trying to catch another glimpse of his scars. “Be safe, Credence.” 

“I will.” Credence raised his gaze and caught Tina’s. Something passed between them that Newt couldn’t understand. He wasn’t meant to, though, the look was for them and not him. 

“And you,” Tina said, turning to Newt, “Will you please call me tonight?”

Newt said he would. Soon Newt was back behind the wheel, Credence in the passenger seat, and the heating blaring as they attempted to warm the freezing car. Credence was huddled in on himself, but he was smiling. Newt stole glances his way, smiling to himself as well, before saying, “Did you have a good night?”

“Yes,” Credence sounded breathless, sounded like ‘yes’ was the most important word he could have said, “Yes, very much. I didn’t know it could be like that.”

“What could be like what?” Newt asked. They were driving now, the Goldstein's house fading in the rearview mirror. 

“Dinner, people, I don’t know. It was just so exciting, and those cookies were the best I’ve ever tasted, and Queenie is so  _ nice _ \--”

Credence cut himself off, as if he decided he didn’t want to say more. Newt glanced at him, but he was staring out the window. There was something melancholy about the drive back to Credence’s house. Newt supposed it was because neither of them really wanted to be making it.  

“Well,” Newt began slowly, wondering if Credence had more to say. He didn’t. Newt continued, “You’re welcome back there anytime.”

“Do you get that every night?”

“No,” Newt chuckled. “Most nights I stay home. Tina and Queenie don’t want to host every night.”

“It’s still more than I’ve ever had,” Credence sounded sad, but he wasn’t accusing Newt of anything. “I’d love to have people like that as my friends.”

“Well, now you do.”

Credence swallowed audibly and nodded. 

“Did you mean it about your spare bedroom?”

“Certainly. My apartment has plenty of space. And I’m sure Queenie and Jacob have a spot for you in the bakery, and they’d pay you a fair wage. You could leave that place, Credence, and we’d make sure you were happy.”

There was a long silence before Credence straightened up and turned toward Newt. He fixed Newt with a careful look. Newt couldn’t meet Credence’s gaze, keeping his eyes on the road, but he could certainly feel it. 

“The last person who tried to help me wanted to fuck me.”

Newt was breathless at the accusation. He had never heard Credence speak so directly, had certainly never felt powerless in front of Credence, until now. 

“That isn’t what’s happening here,” Newt said softly. “I promise. That is far from my intentions.” 

“Are you dating Tina?”

“No. I suppose if I were interested in Tina’s sort, I would be.” 

“Tina’s sort?” Credence repeated. “Like, a  _ woman _ ?”

“Yes,” Newt laughed. “Though I’m not interested in men, either.”

“Oh,” Credence said. “ _ Oh _ .”

“Nobody is trying to get anything out of helping you, Credence. Except perhaps the satisfaction of having helped you, which is certainly a reward in and of itself.” Newt stole a glance to the right. Credence was looking out the window once more. “And if you are uncomfortable with the idea of staying with me, Jacob has a basement that could work, or we could find you somewhere so you didn’t have to stay with any of us at all.”

“No,” Credence said quickly. “If I do choose to come with you I think your spare bedroom would be fine.”

“Okay.” Newt smiled, feeling hopeful. “Okay.” 

The pair chatted for most of the drive. Newt talked about Queenie’s decorating habits, and how she always insisted that the four of them did holiday dinners for every holiday, even the boring ones like Saint Patrick’s day. “Jacob likes to make festive pastries, too, so the pair of them really go all out,” Newt explained. The conversation shifted easily from topic to topic; they glided from holidays to Newt’s work schedule to how much money Newt spent on gas every week. 

After one of Newt’s particularly long monologues Newt glanced at Credence to find that he was yawning, head leaning against the window. Newt turned on the radio, leaving it at a low volume, and let Credence rest. He roused the dozing boy when they reached the resturant, and Credence reluctantly readied himself to leave. They had made their eight o’clock deadline but Newt was still nervous that Credence’s mother would somehow know where they’d been. He trusted Credence to cover his tracks well, though. 

“Thank you, Newt.” Credence said, turned toward Newt in his seat, hands twisting in his lap. “I’m really glad that you were the one to pick me up that day.”

“I’m glad, too,” Newt said, and then bid Credence goodnight. Credence climbed from the car and trudged up the road. Newt hated how many times he’d had to watch this very same sight. 

 

Newt called Tina as soon as he got home. He knew she would sound unhappy before she had even spoken. 

“You didn’t tell me about the scars.”

“I didn’t know about the scars.”

“How did you not  _ know _ ? You see him every week!” 

“I don’t often see people’s palms. Besides, you saw how he kept them hidden.”  
Tina sighed. “Okay, sorry, I don’t mean to attack you, I’m just upset.”

“I know,” Newt paused. “Credence is happy though. He loved you all.”

“Oh, yeah, about that. Queenie wanted to talk to you.”

“Put her on.”

There was a moment of silence, and the shuffling sound of a phone being exchanged, and then, “Newt! Do you hug that boy?”

“I haven’t made a habit of it, no.”

“Well you should! I’ve never met anyone who needed more hugs than him.”

“I don’t really get the opportunity to, Queenie. He kind of just, climbs out of the car…” 

“Well climb out after him then!” 

“I’m not going to do that. He already thinks I’m trying to sleep with him.”

“ _ What _ ?” Queenie had raised her voice in shock, but whispered when she spoke next. “Newt you aren’t trying to get together with this kid are you? You can’t do that, he’s just a kid--”

“I’m not, Queenie, I’m not trying anything with him.”

“Wait, Tina wants to talk to you again.”

“Queenie, wait--”

“You’re trying to do  _ what _ , Newt?” Tina asked, accusingly. 

“Nothing!” Newt didn’t generally raise his voice, but the moment called for it. “I’m not trying to do anything. I’m trying to be his friend, that’s it.”

“Good.”

“But do hug him sometimes,” Queenie’s voice sounded quietly, and Newt knew her and Tina were huddled around the same phone with Tina getting the majority share. “He needed it.” 

“How about you hug him, Queenie, when I bring him back over.” 

“Yes,” Queenie cheered. “I will.”

“I really should get going soon, I have to feed everyone before I go to bed.” Newt was referring to his pets; Tina and Queenie knew that, of course.

“Wait, Newt, one more question,” Tina said, “What is Credence’s last name?”

“Barebone. Why?”

“I’m going to do some research, pull a few records. He said his mother adopted him, I want to know why.”

“Okay,” Newt said, “Goodnight girls.”

“Goodnight, Newt,” they both said at the same time. The phone clicked off, and Newt collapsed on his threadbare couch, exhausted. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://red-0ak-tree.tumblr.com/) for random ezra miller related mumblings


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